


The Mirrored Left

by SilasSolarius



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Left-Hand, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Pack, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:19:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilasSolarius/pseuds/SilasSolarius
Summary: There’s nothing more exhilarating than someone who understands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegirlnamedcove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcove/gifts).



> Steter Secret Santa Exchange prompt: Moral ambiguity, libraries, Magic  
> Disclaimer: If I owned Teen Wolf, it would be Stiles-centric and star more Steter.
> 
>  
> 
> I tried to include everything, but I'm not sure how well I did. Lol, hope you enjoy.

** Chapter 1 **

The change began with his spark, surprisingly enough.

Before the Nogitsune, it had been a warm glowing ember in the center of his chest, pulsing and bright, almost childlike.

But afterwards…

Afterwards that little spark went from a pulsing ember to a roaring inferno, it’s once warm glow now a cold burning that encased his heart. Where it was once child-like and playful, it was wary and bitter, stronger than it had ever been yet terrified of itself.

Just like him.

Following his spark, came the memories.

Thousands of years of memories, none of which belonged to him, integrated themselves into his mind, melding with so little effort it was almost as if they’d been there all along. With them came _power_ and _knowledge_ , ancient and heady as it wove itself into his magic and became something else entire, no longer the Nogitsune but not entirely his either.

Languages he’d never spoken suddenly left his lips as if they’d done so all his life, sometimes slipping into his everyday conversation unbidden.

No one even noticed.

In the wake of the destruction wreaked by the nogitsune while it was wearing his face, the pack paid as little attention to him as possible.

They didn’t notice that his skin was paler than it’s ever been, lighter than the fair peach it had been before but darker that the nogitsune’s deathly pale. Tattoos, lines and lines of Japanese kanji marred his arms, a necklace of protection runes tattooed around his throat, hidden only by his overly-large plaid shirts, yet still peeking through.

Eyes once the color of sunlit whiskey, darkened to the color of unfiltered honey, little flashes of violet lightning flashing within them every few seconds if one looked close enough. His hair, having grown slightly, was long enough to frame his face, the texture no long that of human hair, but the dense softness of fur.

They didn’t notice…and he didn’t care.

 He focused on training his new power, integrating the nogitsune’s - _Katsumi’s (_ _克己)-_ memories into his own. He visited bookstores and the obscure sections of the library that no one went to anymore, becoming such a regular that the librarian offered him a job.

He took it.

With the pack ignoring him, and his father helping the sheriff’s station recover from the Katsumi’s rampage, he needed a distraction other than his steadily growing abilities.

Linda, the librarian, was a kindly old woman that he vaguely remembered from when his mother worked in the library when he was a child. Her fondness for his mother had transferred to him and he found his collection of book growing larger when old tomes they no longer checked out were suddenly being given to him.

It was through his job at the library that he first heard the whispers.

Linda had sent him to San Fran to pick up a new order of books that had just come in with the order to, ‘take his time’ and ‘explore’. He’d done as she’d bid, checking out the city’s supernatural underground discreetly.

One of the places he’d visited was a little ‘hole in the wall’ bar named _Absinthe_.

The place was run by the Alpha of the San Fran Pack, Jared Fernandez, and was popular amongst the supernaturals in the city.

It was a place to gather information and he quickly became a regular using Katsumi’s name, although most of the patrons simply called him, Kit. He went on his off days, or when he had nothing better to do, watching and listening.

Learning.

What he learned, was not good.

There were whispers about Beacon Hills and the lure it held over the supernatural.

Of the fallen Hale pack, its once great numbers decimated to an ostracized Beta, a former failure of an Alpha, and a wayward Beta who chose a different pack over her blood and wanted nothing to do with the former two, none of whom resided on their ancestral land.

Of a True Alpha, that was a failure as an Alpha despite the legends.

Of _weakness_.

The whispers spoke of Scott’s naivety and of how easy it was to get away with things in Beacon Hills because the Alpha always let you go.

They laughed about the boy playing at being a man and of his failure to take care of the outstanding threats to his pack, despite defeating the likes of the Alpha pack and a kanima.

They murmured about what they would do if they were to claim Beacon Hills and of how easy it would be.

None of them noticed the darkness that flashed in his gaze as they spoke or the way he bristled.

Perhaps it was time to put Katsumi’s power to use.

He hated weakness...and he refused to be associated with it.

So, he trained harder.

In between supernatural threats, work, and school he trained harder until controlling his abilities was like breathing.

Until his memories and Katsumi’s were one.

It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

***/***

The first kill came only a month after he’d started visiting Absinthe.

A coven of witches had come to town intent on harnessing the Nemeton’s power.

The pack had scrambled around, depending on his research to defeat them. Once they were surrounded, Scott presented them a choice.

Leave or Eichen House.

With Derek and Peter gone, there was no one to tell him that the plan was stupid...no one but Stiles, and the pack had long since stopped listening to him, so he didn’t speak.

He watched.

He watched as the witches simpered and shed crocodile tears, ‘promising’ to leave and not return.

He watched Scott give them a compassionate smile, _let them leave_ , and tried not to sneer.

They’d be back.

The pack left shortly after the witches did and a slightly feral smirk crossed Stiles’ lips.

Time to hunt.

***/***

As he’d thought, the witches were still in Beacon Hills, camping not too far from the Nemeton.

The tree pulsed at his arrival, gifting him with a hesitant greeting and he gifted it with a gentle caress of his magic in return.

His prey looked up as they sensed his presence, smirking in relief when they saw that it was ‘just the human’.

“You said you would leave.” He stated softly, honey eyes cold as they met the Head witch’s gaze.

The woman sneered at him, painted red lips pulled back to reveal yellowing teeth.

“Everyone knows that McCall doesn’t check to see if people actually leave. The puppy just hopes that everyone is nice and will do what they promise they will.”

He tilted his head, noticing in vague amusement that she seemed unnerved by his impassive gaze.

Good.

“So, you _aren’t_ leaving?” He replied, and her sneer deepened.

“Go home, little boy.”

He stepped forward and smiled at her, a sickening parody of the carefree grin he’d once used to mask his emotions and watched as the first tendrils of fear entered her gaze.

“You should have left.”

Lightning flashed in the sky above them, honeyed eyes darkening into a vivid amethyst.

Between one second and the next, the coven was nothing but ash and a small black fox was leaving the clearing, violet eyes glowing in the dim night.

The forest was silent.

***/***

It continued in this way for months.

Junior year ended with little fanfare, the worst of the supernatural threats taken care of before they ever reached Scott’s notice.

He kept an ear to the ground, branching out and creating alliances for a pack that never noticed and never cared, feeling a detached sense of amusement at their ignorance.

The whispers began to change.

They spoke of the violet eyes beast the True Alpha had tamed.

Of the monster that protected Beacon Hills and how the benevolence of the alpha was more of a ruse than a fact.

They spoke of swift merciless deaths and the chilling laugh of the devil.

Of how seeing a small black fox would lead to death in Beacon Hills.

He heard them all, and he laughed, when everyone came to one conclusion.

Beacon Hills was off limits.

***/***

Summer passed much the same as the tail end of junior year, with him taking care of the worst of the supernatural threats and leaving the smaller ones to the pack. He played the part of the weak human, ‘researching’ the creatures as if he hadn’t already done so, listening as they belittled his humanity while praising Lydia’s.

His father noticed, keen blue eyes seeing more of him than he’d ever had the courage to show anyone else, and in the place of the disgust he’d expected, he found pride.

He’d questioned it, of course he had, and had been stunned when the elder Stilinski had clasped him on the shoulder and smiled at him.

_“I’ve always known you were different, son. I know you won’t hurt innocent people, even though you don’t care for anyone but me and Mel, and I understand. I’m here if you need me.”_

He gave the man the strongest hug he could have given him without crushing him with his new strength.

It was the first time he’d truly smiled in a long time.

So of course, Derek and Peter had to come back that same day.

Fuckers.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter Two **

Peter Hale hated Beacon Hills.

The town was a cesspool of bad memories and failure, weighing on his conscious like an anvil. Just thinking of it made him feel like he was drowning on dry land, and if he had his way, he’d have never gone back.

 

At least, that's what he thought at first.

 

The whispers of his failed Beta’s incompetence made his hackles rise, the Hale in him bristling at such a _weak_ Alpha heading his ancestral home.

 

His nephew, either ignorant or impassive toward the rumors, never spoke on it and he wanted to sneer at the idiot. Didn’t the pup realize that if another pack took Beacon Hills they would truly be omegas. Only the fact that their family’s blood was so tied to the Nemeton and the land itself had saved them so far, from having to find an Alpha to head their reluctant pack of two. He kept his ear to the ground, hoping someone ( _Stiles_ ) in McCall’s pack would realize that the “True Alpha’s” bullshit approach wasn’t working.

 

When the whispers began to change, he knew someone had.

 

He knew exactly who it was too.

 

To be honest, he’d expected to hear whispers of a slim man running around in a red hoodie, swinging a baseball bat. To hear about cold topaz eyes that gleamed like whiskey in the moonlight.

 

That’s not even close to what reality handed him.

 

Violet eyes that spoke of detached amusement, pale lips that seemed perpetually curled into a sinister parody of happiness, and a little black fox that left death in its wake.

 

It was Stiles. Had to be...although he wasn’t quite sure _how_.

 

Last, he’d seen the boy, the nogitsune was gone, as was its power. While it was possible that Stiles’ magic was mimicking the kitsune’s power, he had a feeling that it was something else entirely.

It was only this curiosity that kept him from protesting too heavily when Derek announced that they were returning to Beacon Hills.

 

It was only once he was once again in the loft with McCall and his pack of dimwits that he started to regret it.

 

Especially because said group of dimwits was sans a Stiles.

Without his favorite human, the meeting seemed to be dragging on, petty glares being sent his way by everyone but the kitsune girl and the new Beta child. Both watched him, wary of everyone else’s reaction to his presence, but he ignored them all, tuning out the farce of a meeting until Derek finally asked the question, he’d refrained from asking.

 

“Where’s Stiles? I thought you two were attached at the hip.”

 

 The elder Beta barely refrained from snorting. Obviously, his nephew hadn’t been paying as much attention to their interactions as Peter had. Otherwise, the pup would know that statement was pure bullshit.

 

Scott frowned at him. “Stiles is working. He only comes to pack meetings on the weekends.”

 

Peter raised an eyebrow. Stiles had a job? Considering the amount of threats, he was said to have taken down, it was impressive he would be able to maintain one so long. Even Talia had struggled to maintain her job in the human world while balancing pack matters. It had been the reason for her starting her own business.

 

Derek scowled at the Alpha’s words. “Pack meetings are important.”

“So is work.” His uncle interjected. “Or have you forgotten the pack meetings your father and I used to miss due to our jobs? Or the meetings your mother used to postpone because she couldn’t leave the office.”

 

The younger Hale glared at him but didn’t dispute his point, while McCall’s puppies sent him a strange look.

 

He smirked at them, sneering inwardly as they looked away from him, before relaxing back in his seat.

 

Might as well get comfortable ignoring the little Alpha wannabe...and the smidgen of disappointment he felt about his favorite human’s absence.

***/***

The three weekly pack meets following their return passed in much the same fashion as the first.

 

Stiles was absent for each one and he noticed with alarming clarity that Scott nor any of the others seemed overly concerned about that fact. In fact, it seemed to be just the opposite.

 

They were relieved by his absence.

 

What the hell happened while they were gone?

 

Derek, to Peter’s everlasting shock, seemed just as perturbed by the human’s absence and McCall’s attitude toward it. Even worse, the teen’s window was lined with a mixture of mountain ash and mistletoe, making it impossible to visit him.

 

Not that they would’ve been able to anyways.

 

Despite being the most well-known teenager in town, Stiles had an admirable ability to disappear. Beyond brief glimpses of him at school or entering his home, they’d barely seen the spastic boy.

 

It was...disturbing.

 

Strangely enough, a month passed following the Hale’s return before Stiles came to meeting.

 

A new monster of the week had cropped up just days before the puppies were due back for school, because of course it had. They’d been lucky with the brief respite they’d been granted.

 

A Lamia, of all things, was killing hikers in the preserve and draining their bodies of blood. So far, it had only killed two people, but the true alpha was up in arms about it, especially when Peter suggested that they kill it.

 

He’d been arguing the merits of killing the creature when Stiles waltzed in the loft carrying two different notebooks, and what had to bee and entire ream of printer paper, the top sheet cover in black ink and the messy red scrawl of Stiles’ favorite pen.

 

Ozone clung to his scent, mixing eagerly with the lavender and rain scent and replacing the chemical smell of the Adderall he remembered the boy having to take before they left.

 

At his entrance, the entire room fell silent, and Peter found himself mesmerized as he took in the changes the teen had undergone in his absence.

 

A dark blue turtleneck clung to his slim frame, the long sleeves cover his arms and wrists. Over it was a short sleeved green and black plaid over shirt, giving way to form fitting black jeans, and bright green converses. His skin was pale, darker than the deathly state of the nogitsune, but not quite the warm peach of before, settling on a moonlit ivory that stood in stark contrast to the constellation of beauty marks dotting his face.

 

Full pink lips curled into an amused smirk at their silence, honey brown eyes surveying them all keenly.

 

Peter had never wanted to kiss someone as much as he did in that moment.

 

Swallowing thickly as Derek sent him a confused (and disgusted) look, he put on his best smirk.

 

“Stiles,” He purred. “We haven’t seen you at any of the pack meetings. One would think you’re avoiding us.”

 

His human didn’t flail or yell at him for being a “creeper”, just chuckled, a low throaty sound that made the wolf in him sit up and take notice.

 

“Well Peter, there comes a time in a man’s life when he must work for a living. Being a nearly undefeated lawyer, I’m sure you understand.”

 

Stiles’ voice had deepened, carrying a slight undertone of the nogitsune dangerous lilt.

 

Interesting.

 

“However,” the teen continued, turning to McCall. “I have everything I could find on Lamia right here. It needs to be killed with a knife blessed by a priest. The higher up the priest the stronger the blessing on the blade will be. Or, if you don’t have a knife, it can be killed by covering it in rosemary and salt and setting it on fire. Just in case, I made Molotov cocktails with rosemary and salt in them.” He paused, and something predatory flashed in his eyes, when Scott opened his mouth to protest killing them.

 

“You can trap them by covering a silver chain in holy oil, salt, and rosemary.” It was delivered in an almost reluctant tone and Scott sighed.

 

“We don’t kill people, Stiles.” He said, and Stiles gave that detached smile full of amusement again.

 

“Okay.”

 

Peter blinked, and Derek frowned. “Okay? Stiles, we _need_ to kill this thing.” Derek argued, and Peter’s failed Beta scowled at them.

 

“My way has been working just fine without you!” He snapped. “We don’t kill people! I give them a choice and they leave and never come back! Wasn't it you that said we don’t _have_ to be killers?”

 

Peter sighed, placing a hand on his nephew’s arm. The naive boy wasn’t gonna change his mind, but Peter knew, especially when he saw Stiles’ smile widen.

 

Those Lamia weren’t going to leave Beacon Hills alive.

 

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter Three **

“So, this is what you do in your free time?”

 

Stiles hummed at the question, glancing at the Beta from the side of his eye , while keeping the bulk of his focus on the creatures before him.

 

He’d been expecting it since entering the loft to find both Hales present, and arguing with Scott about killing the Lamia. Having been made aware as soon as the Hales had started making their way to Beacon Hills from Brazil, he’d known they were in town much sooner than they’d announced their presence. Unfortunately, between the rush order of college textbooks coming in for the store and taking care of a demonic invasion in Beacon County, he hadn’t had the time (or patience) to deal with Scott’s pack or to greet the returning Betas. It was only pure chance that he’d managed to get together all the information they needed to take down the Lamia in the two days since dealing with the demons in Beacon County, and the four hours of sleep he’d had in the past four days.

 

He knew Peter had noticed the changes he’d undergone, and if the man was anything like he remembered, had probably been keeping an ear on the happenings of Beacon Hills in the absence of Hale wolves. It was because of this fact that he wasn’t surprised when Peter followed him after Scott and his Pack confronted the Lamia and _let them go_. He’d expected it, knowing the True Alpha wanted to take the “moral high ground” and that the lamia would take advantage of the fact, and prepared to do as he’d one for months now and take care of the threat himself. Being the least moral of the Beacon Hills weres, He’d half expected that if he didn’t go after the lamia, Peter would.

 

The head of the lamia leaned forward at the wolf’s words, her jade eyes wide and full of tears.

 

“Please, your Alpha promised us safety.” She begged the Beta and he sneered at her.

 

“If you left immediately, which you didn’t.” He replied and her beautiful face twisted into a malicious snarl.

 

Stiles hummed, drawing her attention back to him and she flinched when his eyes flashed an iridescent violet.

 

“ _You_. You are the monster everyone speaks of.” She breathed and Peter raised an eyebrow as the turid scent of fear tainted the air.

 

The boy smiled at her, a smile with too little mercy and too many teeth, and a black flame appeared in his hands. She went to flinch away from him, as he leaned forward, her sisters whimpering in fear, only to scream when the abyssal flames surrounded them. Within seconds the three creatures were gone, their ashes blown away by the wind, and Peter was face to face with a tiny black fox kit, Stiles nowhere in sight.

 

He blinked, then gathered the tiny creature in his hands, noting the four slim tails swaying behind it.

 

“Stiles?”

 

The kit yipped and he snorted. “Seems like we’ve got a lot to talk about then.”

 

A soft titter left the kit and he shook his head, somehow aware that the upcoming discussion would be interesting, to say the very least.

 

***/***

Peter was furious.

 

Stiles had just finished telling him about how he’d become the unknown left-hand of Scott’s pack, and of how he was really only welcome at pack meetings when they needed information. Everything that had transpired in the Hale’s absence, including beasts that he’d never told Scott’s pack about, were laid bare for the only person barring his father (and Melissa), that he knew wouldn’t judge him.

 

Peter had listened in varying stages of disbelief and anger, his eyes flashing beta blue when he realized that none of McCall’s pack had noticed the danger the human had been in.

 

He turned his gaze on the teen before him, that honeyed gaze watching him with the barest amusement.

 

“Why tell me all of this?”

 

Stiles smiled. “Because I knew you’d understand...and because if you betray me I _will_ kill you.”

 

It wasn’t a threat, despite the blithe tone it was delivered in.

 

It was a promise.

 

He stared for a moment then smiled. “I’d expect nothing less from you, dear boy _._ ”

 

***/***

It became easier after that.

 

School started back up, and Stiles found himself more than grateful that he’d decided to trust Peter that night. Any threat that struck during school hours were taken care of by the Beta, with Scott’s pack none the wiser. It was an unexpected boon, but one he cherished nonetheless.

 

Telling Peter had also come with another unexpected, but no necessarily unpleasant consequence.

 

They were spending more time together.

 

The confrontation with the lamia and the subsequent explanation had broken a barrier neither knew existed between them, and he’d noticed that their interactions seemed to come easier and easier every time.

 

Before, they had been wary of one another, too alike to trust each other, and both ruthless enough to do what needed to be done.  The snark and sarcasm that passed between them had been tainted by mistrust and old wounds, the barbs blade sharp and aimed to hurt.

 

Now, now that likeness drew them closer, the same ruthless ambition and loyalty that had once made them wary, something to be admired and coveted. Once hurtful words were now tinged with affection, full of inside jokes and hidden meanings.

 

They balanced delicately on the outskirts of the pack together, and when there was research to be done they normally did it together.

 

It was strange, but not unwelcome.

 

Stiles found himself enjoying it when his meetings with Peter became less related to the latest terror of Beacon Hills and more about learning about each other.

 

He liked having Peter in the same room as he read one book or another, sometimes having absolutely nothing to do with a creature or pack business, the man’s voice soothing background noise as he snarked at the paperwork left from taking over his sister’s company.

 

Peter knowing of his shifting abilities meant there was someone around that he could run patrols with, ( or frolick, frolicking in the preserve was fun). The darkness that had clouded his mind since merging with Katsumi’s memories began to recede and for the first time since Scott was bitten he found himself able to _breathe_.

 

He wasn’t drowning anymore.

 

It had to be the best feeling in the world.

 

Was it any wonder that when he fell in love...he didn’t even notice?

 

The feelings struck him after a nightmare.

 

_He’d awakened in a panic, his chest heaving as he tried to take in the air his lungs desperately needed. Around him, he could hear the faint sounds of lightning, his magic lashing out in his distress and it was only for that reason that he’ forgotten that Peter had stayed the night._

_They’d been working on research the night before, trying to finish the last few translations of an old Hale family bestiary, written two centuries previous  by an Alpha that decided to become a hunter. Having fallen asleep side by side on Stiles’ bed, it was no wonder that the wolf had awakened when the boy bolted awake. Dimly, Stiles had thought the man would leave, or at the very least go back to sleep and leave him in his misery._

_He hadn’t._

_Hadn’t even attempted to._

_Instead, he pulled the panicked kitsune into his arms, he’d began a low, rumbling purr deep in his throat, sounding more like a cat than a wolf. A calloused hand had grasped Stiles’ trembling one and pressed it to his v-neck, over a steady heart, while the other stroked his sweat-soaked hair._

_“Its okay to not be strong sometimes,”  He murmured. “No one can be strong all the time, we are not invincible.”_

_“I killed her. I killed her.”_

_“Your hands killed her,” The wolf acquiesced, then his voice softened. “ But you know as well as I, that you were not in control of Katsumi’s actions, Stiles. You weren’t even in charge of your own.”_

_Stiles was silent for a moment. “I- is it wrong that I miss him? Despite everything he did to me, all the hell he raised, I miss Katsumi. When he was here, the weight didn’t feel so…”_

_“Heavy?”_

_He nodded and Peter shook his head._

_“Its not. For years, you have been the person everyone depends on. You have had a lot of weight resting on your shoulders, and yet for those few months that The Nogitsune was in control, you were free. No one was depending on you because they were trying to save you… you didn’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”_

_He curled closer to the wolf, glad that what he was feeling wasn’t as out of line as he’d thought._

_“I still dream about the fire, “ Peter admitted. “I dream about my sister and her pups I couldn’t save, my wife and our son...killing Laura. I hate dreaming about them, but they remind me of what can happen if I fail to protect those close to me.”_

_“It wasn’t your fault.”_

_“And what Katsumi did wasn’t yours.”_

_Everything was silent for a moment then Stiles sighed and smiled, something warm unfurling in his chest._

_“Thank you, Peter.”_

_“No problem, pup.”_

The night had brought them closer, especially when he’d later identified that warmth as love (Katsumi’s memories were a godsend), and at times he found himself wondering if Peter felt it too.

 

He couldn’t help but hope that he did.

 

**Tbc...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Transitioning from Stiles and Peter to _StilesandPeter_ was easy, so much so, that neither of them noticed when it happened.

It started with small things.

They sat closer together when they were reading alone and sometimes Stiles ended up curled against the man as he read one thing or another. Quiet nights became movie nights, their tastes mirrored by each other. It became quiet dinners and private jokes and so many little things that Peter was stunned that he hadn't noticed it sooner.

It wasn't until, after a night at his house that Stiles kissed him on the cheek and wished him a good day at work, that he realized that they were already in a full blown relationship.

He'd stared after the boy for nearly fifteen minutes, his mind reeling as he found himself looking back on every moment and every gesture between them wondering when they'd transition from friends to a relationship without his knowledge. Yet, to his everlasting frustration, he wasn't even able to pinpoint it.

He asked Stiles about it, but the teen was strangely unfazed by the fact.

Instead he'd only smiled at Peter, dark eyes flashing iridescent amethyst in the low lighting of his living room.

" _Oh Peter, mój wilku, was there ever any doubt that we'd end up here?"_

He'd smiled at the question, purring into the chaste kiss that followed and he realized that for the first time since the fire...he was happy.

***/***

His son was happy.

So long had passed since Noah Stilinski had seen his child smile the way he was now, whiskey eyes almost a molten amber in the light of the the morning. Beside him sat Peter Hale, the formerly dead alpha, his blue eyes soft as he watched Stiles move around the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy neither of the older men had ever seen.

It made the sheriff's heart warm to see the teen as happy as he was, the smile playing on the other's lips reminiscent of one he hadn't seen since Claudia's illness had taken over her mind. Before her death had left their beloved Mischief without a mother, and to his everlasting shame, a father. Before werewolves, and Kanimas.

Before everything, really.

His son had worn a fake smile for so long, hiding his feelings behind sarcasm and cutting barbs often enough that Noah had almost forgotten what genuine smiles looked like on those pale features.

Forgotten how much his son reminded him of his dear Claudia.

And all of it was thanks to the man that had sent his life spiraling out of control.

The irony wasn't lost on him at all.

A husky laugh sounded and he hid a grin behind the tumbler of whiskey in his hand, blue eyes gentle as they watched the fledgling couple before him.

Still, if this was the end result, he wouldn't have it any other way.

His warm smile sharpened into something sinister, one hand ghosting over the gun still strapped to his side.

And, if Peter ever hurt his son...well, he's the sheriff. Hiding bodies wasn't too hard when you were the one leading the investigation.

***/***

It wasn't surprising that Derek was the only one that noticed the change.

He slipped in through Stiles' window only a day after they'd told his father that he and Peter were a thing, beta blue eyes glowing as he glared at the teen.

Stiles stared back impassively and waited.

"Peter has done some bad things." The man started, and Stiles tilted his head, wondering if Derek had only come over to warm him away from his mate.

"He has." He agreed.

"He killed Laura."

"And multiple others."

"He's one of my only remaining family members."

A slow smile spread across pale lips as he finally realized why the other was there.

"He is."

"Which means if you hurt him in any way, I'll rip your throat out...with my teeth."

Stiles stared at him, and Derek could swear that he saw the boy's eyes flash an eerie violet.

He frowned and did a double take but found only amused honeyed hues staring back at him. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to leave, wondering just how human Stiles was.

And when that had become something he should question.

***/***

He was happy and it should've been an omen.

He hadn't been happy in years, not since he'd awakened one morning to his mother hovering over him with a knife, her eyes glazed with tears and lacking recognition ( _Since his beloved mate had been killed by humans, their kits still in her womb_ ).

Happiness wasn't a luxury he'd ever been afforded, not as Stiles and definitely not as Katsumi, so he really should've known that it was an omen of the things to come.

So why had he let his guard fall?

 _Why_ hadn't he known about this?

Amber eyes simmered as they tracked the movement of the Alpha before them, watching as the older boy paced waving a single sheet of a paper around animatedly.

"A treaty! I _told_ _you_ my way was working. The San Francisco Alpha has offered to make a treaty with us! No killing involved."

Jared? Jared thought Scott was a joke, so what had changed?

Perhaps his work as Kit was gaining more recognition for the pack than he thought?

Interesting.

Did Jared really think Scott was changing?

Derek glared at the younger wolf. "It could be a trap! Jared and his pack have been in San Francisco as long as Hales have been in Beacon Hills and while he had a treaty with my mother, he's a traditional Alpha. Your way of doing things is an offense to him."

"People change, Derek!"

Peter chuckled, drawing everyone's attention to him.

"Jared doesn't. Derek and I went to see him before we returned here and he was happily stating that he's glad you were finally doing things the right way. All I can say is, he'll come even if you don't agree, so be on your guard."

Scott remained stubbornly obstinate, insisting that the older alpha had probably change and was looking to come to Beacon Hills for more knowledge on why Scott's way was _the way_.

It was as sickening as it was naive.

Molten honey eyes slid away from the beaming Alpha to meet the icy blue gaze of his lover and his pale lips curled into a secretive smile.

Jared and his pack were giving them a week to prepare, more than he needed.

It was more than enough time for him to hunt...and to get rid of the small grouping of harpies that had crossed into his territory the night before.

He chanced a glance at Derek, noting the tension lining his shoulders.

Perhaps his friend would help.

**TBC…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mój wilk- My wolf


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loose ends are tied...One more chapter!

**Chapter Five**

Dangerous.

Two and a half years ago, when he'd come across Stiles and Scott in the woods near the ruins of his family's home, dangerous had been the last word to cross his mind about the human.

His pale, almost delicate features and slender frame seemed so unassuming, gentle amber eyes hiding a terrifyingly sharp mind. Yet at that moment he'd seen the boy as weak, and almost stupidly loyal, his bark so much worse than his bite that Derek almost laughed to think of it.

As time had passed, life or death situations steady throwing them together he had come to see that the boy was strong willed and emotionally strong as well...with a capacity for violence that almost outweighed his capability of kindness. Still he hadn't thought him dangerous.

That hadn't changed until the Nogitsune.

The Nogitsune had turned their greatest asset, Stiles' mind, against them, and he ripped away the one person holding their pack together. The power it had held, had looked so natural on Stiles that he'd often forgotten that the teen was possessed, at least until those brief moments when Stiles was able to free himself and had stared at them pleadingly from behind the dark spirit's sneer.

When he'd been freed, that danger seemed to leave with the spirit possessing him, leaving behind only a broken husk. That had been the Stiles Derek had seen when he left Beacon Hills.

It wasn't the one he returned to.

This new Stiles was impassive to nearly everything, lounging quietly through pack meetings with all the grace of a coiled predator. His lips seemed ever curled into an indulgent smile even when annoyance flashed bright in his eyes.

He'd been weary of him, so sure he was possessed again.

Then Peter had explained that Stiles had come into his own, had embraced his inner darkness and suddenly everything made sense. The ease of the nogitsune's power under Stiles' control, the languid grace with which the younger boy now walked, it all made more sense than it had any right to.

Stiles was made for it.

He was made for power, for the ruthless amoral reality of the supernatural world and as he watched the scene before him, Derek couldn't help but wonder how he'd managed to be fooled by the mask of snark that the other wore.

The black blood of harpies streaked pale skin, iridescent violet eyes glowing under the moonlight and he could see why his uncle had fallen so far, so fast.

Stiles was beautiful, but he was also exactly like Peter, able to dole out ruthless violence as well as it was heaped upon him.

The last harpy was begging at his feet, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed and stammered in fear.

He almost felt bad.

Then he remembered the way she had gloated and satisfaction filled him when Stiles curled a gentle hand in her hair and wrenched. Beside him, Peter gave a low rumbling growl, gaze locked on his mate and Derek smiled remembering the tales of the old Hales.

Perhaps it was time to go back to the ways of old.

He glanced down at his own kill, feeling the moon's call sing in his blood.

Perhaps. It certainly couldn't hurt.

***/***

Gerard Argent.

Two long years had passed since he'd so much as thought of the Argent Patriarch but he still remembered the burning hatred he felt for the man. The shame he felt when he remembered being powerless as the man beat him to hell and back, as he was tortured in front of Erica and Boyd, whose screams still rang in his ears.

Yet as Chris and Isaac spoke of the man's return, both emotions were just as potent as they'd been those years ago, more so as they were strengthened by the roiling darkness within him, and unbidden, Stiles felt his lips curl into a vicious snarl.

Only three days had passed since they'd received Jared's notice and he'd only just settled, when the two had returned from France with warnings of Gerard's impending arrival.

Scott had welcomed them back into the fold with open arms, and he'd noted that while Isaac continuously glanced his way wearily, Chris had given him a gentle smile.

A forgiving smile.

It was almost enough to settle the bloodlust rearing in his mind at the thought of the man's father invading his territory.

 _Almost_.

Thunder sounded outside the loft and he forced himself to calm, his expression going completely blank.

"When is he coming?" He asked softly, voice cutting through the conversation in a way that had every head turning towards him. He knew why too.

Since Theo, since killing Donovan, he'd barely spoken in pack meetings. When he did, his voice was always that same soft purr, so similar to Katsumi's rumbling drawl in tone and yet so different.

It scared them.

He didn't care.

He hadn't for a long time.

Chris sent him a considering look, brow furrowed.

"Friday. He'll be here Friday."

Jared would be in Friday as well.

Two birds with one stone.

Stiles smiled.

***/***

He'd let his guard down.

Beta blue eyes flashed with fury as their owner struggled against the chains holding him in place, fangs clashing as he snarled at both his captor and his own idiocy.

Fighting alongside Stiles against the threats the pack knew nothing of, falling in love, it had made him complacent and he could only blame himself for the predicament he was in.

He'd been surrounded by hunters leaving the grocery store, so elated by the text Stiles had sent him about a rare book he'd found at work that he'd barely noticed them until he was already surrounded.

It was a foolhardy mistake, especially when, according to Chris his father would be coming into town that day. It was mistake he wouldn't repeat when he escaped here.

And he _would_ escape.

He could already feel the simmering rage building on the other end of his bond with Stiles and he bared his teeth in wrathful parody of a smile.

His pack was coming for him.

He was more than ready.

***/***

He shouldn't be happy about it but as the visiting Alpha and his delegation entered the loft, Scott couldn't help but be thankful that Stiles was absent.

Since returning to the pack after their argument about Donovan, and Theo's subsequent murder, Stiles had changed and at time he wasn't sure if it was for better or for worse.

His brother had always been the darker minded of them, his morals looser than anyone Scott had ever known and he knew, had seen, that Stiles wouldn't hesitate to kill anything that threatened anyone that he'd claimed as his. It had happened when Peter was the Alpha, had been offered (half in jest) when Derek had tried to threaten Scott into joining his pack, and even when Kanima Jackson had threatened the sheriff's station. Everyone else, they seemed to think that the sacrifice and the Nogitsune was what had brought that darkness out of the younger boy but he knew the truth.

They hadn't created that darkness, just enhanced it and made Stiles more comfortable showing it.

Suddenly murder wasn't something his friend only offered in jest, it was considered as a genuine solution and as much as he knew that Stiles would never hurt him, he was terrified of the human.

He was scared of his _brother_. The same kid that had carried a spare inhaler for him since they were five years old. Who'd held him as he cried himself into an asthma attack after his father had left. Who'd let him return the favor after he'd found him hiding in his room crying because his mother was dead and his father was drinking himself into an early grave.

And he felt so much worse for it. So much that he'd tried to push him away.

Worse, it worked.

Suddenly, Stiles was spending as little time as possible around them, speaking in clipped sentences or remaining silent at pack meeting. He balanced at the edge of their pack, never quite a part but never excluded and it hurt, because this pack was as much Stiles as it was his.

Research on the latest threats were handed over with wan grins, ways to capture on top of ways to kill it, because Stiles knew he wouldn't agree. Peter seemed to be the only person keeping Stiles connected to them and since the announcement of the Alpha's impending arrival, Derek seemed to have joined them.

The three of them were like a pack, within his pack, one that just barely acknowledged him as its Alpha, which would've ruined this meeting.

So yeah, he was glad Stiles hadn't been able to make the meeting… at least not yet.

Smiling warmly, he held out his hand in greeting, taking in the ruggedly handsome features of the older Alpha.

Broad shoulder dwarfed his own in size, the man standing at a staggering 6'7, his dark brown eyes full of mirth as they met his. Short, but messy auburn hair lay atop his head falling into his roguish features, a wild grin tugging at his lips.

"Alpha Fernandez, welcome to Beacon Hills." He greeted.

A large hand gripped his and shook it firmly. "Alpha McCall, please to meet you. Thank you for hosting me. Behind me are my Betas, Kyle and Isaiah." Both men nodded in greeting, their identical green gazes calculating as they met his.

"Nice to meet you. These are my Betas, Derek and Liam."

Leading the men inside, he almost didn't noticed the look they exchanged behind his back.

He glanced at Derek, who pursed his lips, but kept an eye on the visitors.

With an inward sigh, he seated them in the living room, and began the meeting.

"What made you rethink forming a treaty with us?" He asked and Fernandez chuckled.

"To be honest, I didn't respect you for a long time, even with your status as True Alpha, because to me, you weren't an Alpha. A true alpha sheds blood to protect his pack and his territory and you were just letting all of these threats waltz in and do as they please, then _asking_ them to leave. It was sickening. I'm glad you've finally decided changed that."

Scott frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

Jade eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. "You didn't know?"

The younger Alpha gave a sound of frustration. "Know what?!" He snapped and the visiting Alpha chuckled incredulously.

"Unbe-fucking-lievable. Beacon Hills is the most feared city in the underworld and its Alpha has no clue." He snorted. "How is this my life?"

Isaiah snickered. "Wait until Kit hears about it."

Fernandez groaned, before turning to face him again. "Look kid, I appreciate what you're trying to do, mercy for the enemy and shit. But it doesn't work. It makes you weak and tells others they can do what the hell they want to you without any expectation of retaliation. When you first took over, nearly everyone wanted to kill you and take this land, myself included. Then we heard about your fox and how people would die after being told by you they could leave and we stopped. No one that has tried to take Beacon Hills in the past year or so have left it alive."

Scott's heart stopped. All those lives he thought he'd spared...were gone?

Then the rest of the Alpha's explanation filtered in.

His fox?

Kira?

No, Kira was terrified to kill.

That left only one person.

 _Stiles_.

He opened his mouth to speak, anger coursing through him at his best friend's betrayal, yet before a word could leave his lips, the door to the loft flew open and a thick smog filled the room.

His lungs burned, stinging welts appearing on his skin and he snarled.

Wolfsbane.

Hunters.

Gerard.

Worse, he smelled the scent of blood and pain intermingled with Peter's. He heard the pained grunts and the sound of a body being dragged before Gerard appeared his hunters surrounding them on all sides.

Peter was at his feet, cuffed, bloody cuts and black veins staining his skin.

"Hello, Scott." The Argent Patriarch greeted calmly and Fernandez cursed angrily, turning a bright vermillion glare on him.

"See kid, this is what happens when you don't tie up loose ends."

Scott swallowed, scowling when Peter, despite his obvious injuries snorted.

"I agree. Hello, Jared."

"Peter."

A low chuckle sounded and everyone turned to Derek who's Beta blue eyes glowed as they stared straight through Gerard.

"Peter, weren't you on the phone with Stiles, when you were taken."

Peter smiled and unnoticed by all, a tiny black fox slipped into the room.

***/***

Kyle is the first to notice the fox kit sitting beside Peter Hale's battered form.

Fur, darker than the night sky, seemed to absorb all the light in the room, shifting like shadows even as the owner was still. Violet eyes watched them all with detached amusement, but a deep burning rage burned beneath it.

He swallowed the fear he felt at the sight and the rumors he'd heard surrounding it, summoning as much bravado as he could, so not to seem weak.

"Hunters use pets now?" He questioned as the Argent Patriarch taunted the McCall Alpha, and everyone frowned at him.

"Excuse you, mutt?" Argent snarled and a low smooth voice, familiar yet stunning sounded, the fox shifting into someone he knew very well.

"I don't think so, Ky." The newcomer responded, but his violet eyes never left Gerard. "Hello Gerard."

"Stiles," He greeted pleasantly and Kit smiled, a dark parody of the smile Alpha McCall had greeted them with.

" _Kiero._ " 'Stiles' purred with a lazy wave of his hand, and every hunter in the room, barring Argent vanished with a pain-filled scream.

Fear started to build in the old man's eyes, especially when faced with the hatred burning behind Kit's kind expression.

"You took my mate, Argent. I would like him back."

Peter smirked.

"Save some for me, darling."

"No." Was the soft response before clawed fingers pierced through Argent's chest and out his back with his heart in hand.

And for a moment, all was silent.

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiero (jap.)- To Vanish
> 
> NEXT: Confrontations and reactions. :-)
> 
> A/N: Big shout out to Controlofchaos for correcting my Japanese. You rock dude!


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Open/Ambiguous ending
> 
> Again Huge shout out to controlofchaos for correcting my japanese! Thanks so much!

**Epilogue**

"You killed him." Scott whispered faintly, staring at the cooling corpse before him with wide eyes.

Stiles glanced at him, then at Gerard's body, before turning to Peter. "Are you okay, _anata_?"

The former alpha smiled, then winced as he moved one of his wounds the wrong way.

"I'm fine, Stiles."

The teen nodded decisively. "Good." He purred, then turned to Jared and his pack.

"Jared." He greeted, "We won't be having any problems now, _will we_?"

The older male shook his head. "Hell no, Kit. You know that."

The teen hummed and turned to Scott who was still staring down at Gerard's body in silent horror.

His "brother" didn't speak, didn't move but his horror was almost palpable in the air, and he knew what was coming before it even happened.

He'd been prepared for this eventuality since the first time Scott and the others had turned their backs on him after Katsumi's reign of terror, since seeing the judgment and accusation in Scott's eyes when he confronted him about Donovan.

He knew that this, _this_ would be the turning point of their relationship, for better or worse and somehow he could only hope for the former, while expecting the latter.

Behind them, the rest of the pack stared in silence at their alpha and his best friend, reactions to the ruthlessness of the former human varying.

Liam was stunned, but not as horrified as he perhaps should've been, knowing without a shadow of doubt that Stiles would never hurt them. He _knew_ that the older boy could be dangerous, having smelled the ozone in his scent at the few pack meetings he bothered to attend. All the same, he wasn't afraid.

Lydia, for once in her life, was uncertain.

She had no problem with Stiles killing Gerard, but the ruthless way he'd gone about it terrified her because it reminded her too much of the Nogitsune, rather than the quirky sarcastic boy that had tried for years to get her attention. She watched how his eyes would subconsciously move towards Peter, the look in his eyes warmer than she'd ever seen directed at her. Worse, there was actually love, deep and all encompassing in his whiskey turned violet eyes whenever his and Peter's gazes met and she knew with absolute certainty that he'd _never_ been in love with _her_.

It made her wonder, just how much of the Nogitsune rampage had actually been the monster's fault. How much Stiles, himself had been responsible for. She, like the others, hadn't missed the implication of Alpha Fernandez's words when he'd arrived and it told them that Stiles had been killing a lot longer than they'd been aware of. It wasn't something she liked to contemplate, especially if he was going to tie his life to a monster like _Peter Hale_ of all people.

Malia was indifferent.

Looking back, the casual violence they'd just seen from the human had always been there, and now they all knew it. Stiles was cunning, and his morals were as loose as hers had been when she'd returned to civilization, the fact that he'd found his match in her father wasn't too shocking. Stiles was an alpha in his own right, always had been and she knew without a doubt that at the end of the day, he'd just been trying to keep them, keep Beacon Hills safe from Scott's mistakes.

And that was all there was to it.

Kira was terrified and horrified.

She'd never gotten a chance to meet the carefree, snarky Stiles that Scott reminisced about to her in the months after the Nogitsune defeat. Had never met the teen who smiled and faced the world with nothing but a baseball and his unending sarcasm.

Instead, when she'd met Stiles he was already trapped in bordo, never quite sure what was real and what wasn't. He was twitchy and anxious, using his sarcasm to hide the very real fear in his eyes and the way he trailed off unsurely in conversations.

Then the Nogitsune happened and suddenly, that Stiles was gone, only to be seen in brief periods of clarity when then dark spirit was resting. In those times, he was almost always tired or afraid, amber eyes dull and broken when ever the dark veneer of the Nogitsune gave way.

Afterwards, she'd foolishly hoped he would become that teen Scott spoke of in his stories. The boy that would play in mud next to his mother's garden so that Scott would smile. The boy that had faced down a crazed alpha with a molotov and pure determination.

He hadn't.

He was hollow and broken, smiling smiles that never reached his eyes and full of guilt, even when they assured him that the Nogitsune wasn't his fault. He'd healed, slowly, just beginning to smile again when Theo happened.

Now he was...this.

An odd mix of the Nogitsune darkness and his own, eyes the color of amethyst watching them impassively, but cautiously as if waiting for something...and a glance at her boyfriend told her just what that was.

She just hoped Scott would handle it the right way...but she also knew he wouldn't.

As if to prove her right, he spoke.

"Stiles...how could you?"

The younger kitsune turned, sadness and malice warring for dominance in his eyes.

"Scott, your way wasn't working. It's never worked."

Scott scowled, eyes flashing scarlet as he glared at the other. "Well we wouldn't know that, _would we_? You've killed everyone I thought I spared!"

"Actually I do!" Stiles snapped back sharply, and his best friend recoiled at the hidden anger in his voice.

"Outsiders were steadily invading our town, our _home_ , because they _**knew**_ that our alpha was a _koinu_! To big for his paws, unable to defend his territory and its residents _the right way_. We were going to face a fucking invasion before Derek and Peter came back. It was _my way_ that made them back off."

"You're killing people!"

Stiles snorted. "Yes! Because the only way to make sure a threat stops being a threat is to take them out _permanently_. I refuse to bet my dad's safety on our enemies _maybe_ keeping their word."

It was the most they'd heard Stiles say in weeks and voice was so bitingly honest that Kira wasn't sure what to make of it.

Apparently Scott didn't either, because he was gaping at the other boy, who sighed.

"Scott, I love you man...but you know that you have never and will never be my alpha. Our morals don't mix."

Her boyfriend's face crumpled but he nodded morosely, hugging Stiles fiercely.

"I don't agree with you killing people...and I'll never be comfortable with you killing...but even if you think I'm naive, I know not everyone can be saved. We're going to talk about this later. Really talk...and hopefully we can come to a compromise. I- I don't wanna lose you."

Stiles smirked, but hugged him back.

"Would it help if I told you dad knows?"

"What!"

**FIN~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anata-  
> Koinu- Puppy


End file.
